


What Plan?

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Earth C Shenanigans [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), Gen, Mention of Past Abuse, blood warning, d just pins bro down like a butterfly and fucking guts him, graphic gore warning, my tumblr is knight-of-heart-and-art, oh my fucking god d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dirk and Dave's respective guardians show up on Earth C.Rather...bloodyevents occur between the two of them when D figures out exactly what kind of a person Bro Strider is.Based onaut0-resp0nder's text post.





	What Plan?

_The game spits everyone out here sooner or later._

You actually knew that. Like, the fact that a certain troll with horns that wouldn't fit through the goddamn door showed up to talk to your boyfriend a couple months ago was definitely a tip-off, especially with the look you caught on Karkat's face in the moment he realized the guy was alive. And then there's Kankri, Mituna, Eridan, a bunch of adult trolls who honestly creep you out—they're weird, okay, that's _not_ what Karkat and Kanaya and Terezi look like. Earth C is meant for everyone who played to live on, everyone who's connected to you and the other thirty-three players who're affiliated with the session that produced it. 

With all that info, you guess Dirk's text shouldn't surprise you this much. 

TT: You know my bro? Like, you. Except. Well. Not actually you, but you know who I mean.   
TT: Anyway, yeah. He's here. On Earth C. Contacted me.   
TT: Apparently your bro's still around here too.   
TT: Mine says he wants all four of us to meet. Gave me a place and time. 

"Holy _shit._ " 

Karkat looks up from his laptop to cock an eyebrow at you across the kitchen table, mingled confusion and concern on his face. That latter is probably for the fact you almost certainly sound like you can't breathe. 

Well, that's understandable. You _can't_ actually get your lungs to cooperate right this second, after all. It feels like you got punched in the gut. 

"Dave?" 

"It's cool, man, just...gimme a sec." 

TG: when and where 

You don't know why the hell you're doing this. 

TT: Half an hour from now, and on the roof of the apartment building he apparently lives in now. Something about it being neutral territory.   
TT: I think he thinks either I'm going to try and fight him or you're going to attack him out of a dominance thing. This entire family is weird as hell.   
TT: From what he's telling me, he can't get your bro to cooperate with this, so it might just be three of us. 

(He definitely knows how relieving that is to you. Thank god for Dirk and his calm reassurance that passes itself off as stating facts.) 

TG: cool   
TG: text me the address and ill be there

"Hey Karkat."

"Mm?" 

"Dirk wants me to come deal with some shit with him—you okay with me going AWOL for a couple-three hours?" 

Karkat rolls his eyes at you. "It's not absent _without leave_ if you ask me first, dumbass. Is this about explosions?" 

"No." You can say that truthfully for once. 

"Corrosive chemicals, out of control bots, computer viruses that can fuck with biological systems, bees, puppets—" 

"Nope, no, I don't think Dirk's gone that far into shitty sci-fi yet, Sollux would skin him alive if he tried doing a setup like that, and he knows better than to do that to me." You give Karkat a grin as you get up and lean down to kiss his forehead, snagging your shades off the table. "This is just bro shit, babe, it's all good." Again, totally truthful. 

Well, those last three words might not be, but it'll be _fine._

Of course it will.

* * *

Coincidentally, it takes you almost precisely thirty minutes to walk over to the address Dirk texts you. (Not that it's half an hour's walk away. You just walk slow. And maybe stop to buy a coffee and drink it and check your messages from Dirk like seventy times to see if Bro showed up yet.) (He hasn't.) 

(If he had, then you might've just turned the hell around and gone back home.) 

It's kinda reassuring that the building itself doesn't look enough like the one you grew up in to trip off your shitty déjà vu, though. Like, maybe Striders gravitate to this kind of place, for whatever reason—is it something about it being defensible? That can't possibly be right, there's ways of living that're a hell of a lot better for keeping intruders out—but this is a _nice_ place. Makes you feel a bit better about heading up. 

The fact that the elevator actually has a button for going all the way up to the roof also helps, weirdly enough. Or maybe it's not weird. 

Your phone buzzes with another text from Dirk just as the elevator doors slide open. He's perched up on top of one of the (currently inactive) air-conditioning units, with that abstracted look on his face that means he's splitting his attention between using his shades to text you and talking to the guy who's leaning against the unit next to him. 

Well, fuck. So that's your alternate self. 

It's not really like looking in a mirror, or even like seeing a time-looped or doomed version of the you from _this_ timeline. It's _weird,_ is what is is—somehow it didn't occur to you that he'd be taller than you, and you didn't expect him to look so fucking identical to the idealized (you assumed) promo pics Dirk's got of him. And you _really_ didn't anticipate the immediate and friendly grin he gives you.

"Hey, Dave." Dirk's the first one to actually say anything, though. "I'd introduce you to D, but I feel like you probably know more about him than me." 

"Nah, that'd imply I knew, like, anything about myself." It's pretty damn easy to dig up an answering grin. "Y'all've been here a while, huh? Don't tell me I'm late." 

"You're all good, kid." D shrugs a bit, studying you for a second. You wonder if it's this creepy when you really look at somebody without taking your shades off. "Dirk's been telling me some shit, is all." 

"About?" 

"You. And your bro." 

You can't actually hold back the nervous laugh, and Dirk frowns at the sound of it. "Yeah, him...sorry he didn't go for your family-reunion shit, it's—just how that shit is, he's not all that interested in this kinda thing, not that I'm gonna call that a _bad_ thing, y'know, even if it kind of sucks that you don't get the full Strider set at once, but—" 

"Dave, chill." Dirk says it softly, taking his shades off and setting them in his lap. "He's not coming, period. We'd kick his ass and he knows it." 

D looks between the two of you a couple times, frowning slightly as he settles on focusing on you. "Does he really deserve that?" 

"Yes," Dirk says without even a little hesitation. 

"Kind of," you say at the same time. Dirk frowns at you as you continue, trying really fucking hard to keep from falling into the speed-rap rhythms you tend to talk in when you're stressed. "He hasn't even bothered to try and see me since he ended up here, okay, it's not like he's still trying to start up old shit, the fighting and the stupid puppet shit, that hasn't happened, he hasn't even _tried_ to force me into a strife since, you know, he _died_ , it's not r-really—" 

Okay. That's the end of the breath in your lungs. Dirk's blinking at you, his mouth set in a worried line. 

D tilts his head to one side, then takes his shades off and tucks them into the neckline of his shirt with one smooth motion, keeping his eyes fixed on you. You can't decide whether he's calm or just holding back more anger than you can wrap your head around; both seem equally possible. It's more than a little terrifying. "So..." 

"He's a bastard," Dirk answers, when it's obvious that you're not about to open your mouth again. "I wasn't fucking exaggerating. Dave's—" 

D nods, but other than that you don't catch even a flicker movement before the katana appears in his hand. Holy _shit_ he's fast—that's inhuman. "Be back in a bit," he says, and you can hear contained rage in his voice. 

Then he's just gone. 

You don't even have time to flinch. 

The door to the stairs slams. Dirk lets out a surprisingly shaky breath. "Holy fuck. Don't ever let me get on his bad side, Dave." 

"He's your brother, dude. I think you're safe." 

"Your bro's technically his brother, too." Dirk shrugs, picking up his shades and putting them back on. You can see, very faintly, the flicker behind the lenses as Hal puts something up for him to see. "Don't think that's going to help at all, honestly." 

"...yeah." The next word is not one you are proud of, at all. " _Good._ "

* * *

Bastard doesn't even see you coming. 

To be fair, the only second you're not flash-stepping is the one it takes for you to stop and put your shades back on, right outside his door. There's the little red tell-tale of the camera in your shades recording, even though you definitely didn't tell it to do that. 

(This is what you get for agreeing to let your little bro's AI have access to, quote "certain functions of your electronics," unquote. You're not even sure if this whole recording thing is something the bot's doing, or Dirk's doing. You kind of hope Dirk isn't watching, though.) 

The door may or may not be locked. It's like Schrödinger's door, kind of, because you knock the fucker off its hinges. (Thought experiments are not your strong suit.) 

Impressively, Dave's bro is already halfway through a dive towards a weapon before your sword pins his wrist to the floor, splintering bones and boards with equal ease. 

...yeah, this is going to make a mess. 

He's quiet, though. All you get out of him is a pained wheeze as he tries to pull his hand free, which just widens the hole in his arm a little more. He's trying to get to the damn katana on the floor, which is quite obviously never going to happen. 

You crouch down over him and snag it yourself, snapping your wrist down to drive it through his untrapped hand when he goes to grab it from you. (This time he can't hold back the noise he makes, somewhere between a groan and a scream.) _Now_ he's pinned, and he can't do a damn thing when you pluck his anime shades off his face, other than first jerk his head away and then try to bite your hand. 

"Fuck you," he snarls, defiant even though he's already dead white from pain and shock. Maybe blood loss, too, although that won't be what kills him so long as he stops jerking at the swords holding him down. "Fuck you, Dave, fuck—" 

He shuts up pretty damn fast when your knees come down on his chest, as you reach for _another_ sword (how many does he even have?) that's lying on the coffee table. "Not quite the Dave you're thinking of, asshole." The pointy shades get set on the table, swapped for the blade. "This is all for him, though—" 

He squirms and then bucks under you, and you lose your balance, catching yourself a bare second before your throat would've been close enough for him to take a chunk out of it with his teeth. (And he would have. Striders don't die easy.) 

But you do catch yourself, and you smirk because he's looking at you and that's what you'd do if you were actually as in control as you want to seem to be. It's a persona thing. So is the _carefully_ measured movement of leaning down, still too far for him to hurt you, keeping that grin on your face, and the volume (almost nonexistent) and tone (so fucking smug) of the four words you whisper before you bring the third sword down. 

"All according to keikaku." 

And then you curse yourself for forgetting that yeah, your little bro might still be watching and if he is you just proved that you're a goddamn weeb. In addition to traumatizing him with the sight of you gutting this piece of absolute scum. 

Yeah, you're not actually that great of a role model.

* * *

In the elevator on the way down to wait in D's apartment, Dirk visibly winces and pulls his shades off, making a face. "Ouch." 

"What?" Hal's been streaming video to him; you can see the flicker of movement even if you can't make out what it is. That's not making you any less nervous. Nor is the fact that Dirk won't tell you what it is, and Hal won't even respond to your texts. "Dude, seriously, what the fuck's going on? Like, do I _really_ need to be in the damn dark here, is that some kind of prerequisite of this stupid situation—" 

"D's a weeb, is all." Dirk shrugs, giving you a slightly-sick grin. "And no, you really don't want to know anything about the rest, trust me." 

"Unfair." 

"Nope. Somebody's got to keep you from looking at the bad shit, right?" 

Bad shit?

He's still smiling even though he looks unnerved, though, so you're pretty sure D isn't the one hurt here. 

Let it go.

* * *

D comes back an hour and a half later, in a completely different outfit from the one he left in. His hair's wet and no longer neatly smoothed down, like he just took a quick shower. 

He offers you a grin, nods at Dirk, and goes over to dig in a drawer, finding a couple tacks and pushing them into the wall, balancing a very familiar pair of shades on them. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Holy fuck. 

"That's, uh." Dirk pauses, and you don't even have to look over; you can actually hear him swallow before he finishes his sentence. "...an effective trophy. I'm assuming it is a trophy?" 

"Hell yeah it is." D steps back and cocks his head to one side, contemplating his arrangement. "Unless Dave wants 'em?" 

You definitely do not. 

"Nah. You deserve those." It's as close as you can get to _thank you._

D nods like he hears what you can't quite say, though. "Cool." 

Dirk just looks between the shades on the wall and D and shakes his head a little. Doesn't say anything, though.

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive the slightly-irrelevant title but A) I can't think and B) the irony of D using that fucking line when he's operating on pure righteous rage and brotherly fury and making this shit up as he goes along is not something I can pass up. If you have a better suggestion, put it in the comments and I'll gladly change it.


End file.
